Nine Lives
by albinoturtle
Summary: Chapter 8- /It seems like he can't remember anything at all, except for those lovely dark eyes that are gazing at him so tenderly. But they're not hers. /A series of one-shots, AU.
1. Cultural Revolution, 1968

Nine Lives will be a collection of 9 one-shots, each set in a different time period. As with all my other works, please correct me on grammar, spelling, and historical mistakes if spotted. Thank you for reading!

* * *

><p>Communist China, 1968.<p>

#####

She met him when she had barely grown out of her gangly teenage years, a young woman of twenty with raven black hair, creamy skin and wide, amber eyes. She was wearing the Red Guard uniform, and it was unmistakable that she was a local authority. Maybe it was the way she walked, with a straight back and slow, surely steps, or maybe it was the way she always took in her surroundings, with a clear gaze and a stare so intense it could make any pro-capitalist man blush.

She stood at the front of the fancy, western-style home, on the outskirts of her district. She was to survey the belongings inside the house, and question the homeowner. And possibly arrest him.

She knocked on the door, and it was swiftly opened by a foreign man with tousled, blond hair.

She stared.

He stared back.

He was young, yet deceptively young, because although all the roots of his hair were the same bright yellow and his face was a smooth canvas of skin, his eyes captured her attention and made her wonder his age. They were an exquisite green, bright and inquisitive, possessing so much depth and secretive sadness that made her heart tug a little and her nose twitch in suspicion. _Definitely a capitalist_, she thought. Aloud, she said, "Mr. Usui Takumi? I'm Ayuzawa Misaki. Would you be so kind, sir, as to give me a tour of your house, and also answer a few questions about yourself?"

His face lacked any emotion, but she knew he knew he was in trouble. Logically, a foreigner- a British, at that, did not belong to an Asian country during a cultural revolution. And to be approached by the authority meant that he could lose all his possessions and be thrown in jail.

Her gaze swept down, and she realized that he had a violin under his arm and a bow on his right hand, but her thoughts were interrupted by his response.

"Aren't you a Japanese?"

Inwardly, she rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. She might have answered this question a thousand times. "I was raised by my grandmother," she explained with a bland, monotone voice, "who was Japanese."

His pinkie traveled to the neck of the instrument, casually plucking the E string as he tilted his head, as if surveying her. "Fair enough. Don't bother taking off your shoes, unless you have a liking for cat feces." He opened the door wider.

She stepped inside the french doors, and momentarily forgetting her position, wrinkled her nose like a child. The residence was beautiful, with fancy tables and paintings, gilded portraits and a spiraling staircase. It was also teeming with cats. "You raise cats for a living?"

He glanced back and gave her an amused smile as he led her to the living room. "I'm a violinist." He nodded his head at the piece of paper Misaki was still clutching. "I thought you would know that already."

She flushed as she sat down on one of the purple, velvet sofas, and across from her he followed suite. "I was too taken back by the number of cats in your house."

He threw back his head and laughed. While his face was devoid of any expression just a few moments ago, she noticed the crinkle in his eyes and the lopsided grin. He was, as reluctant as she was to admit, charmingly handsome. Charismatic. Mesmerizing.

He placed the violin carefully onto a glass table and folded his hands in front of him. "So, what's a pretty girl like you doing in a single man's house?"

She glared. Apparently, he was a pervert, too, but she sat up straight and answered him, pretending to be unaffected. "You do know, Mr. Usui, that I have the power to arrest you."

Her bark had no effect on him.

He chuckled and leaned back on the couch and gazed at her, an arm supporting his head, like a bored student. "And what good would that do to you?"

She ignored his question. She had a duty. "Sir, I'd like you to answer a few questions on your background."

He mocked a bow from where he was sitting. "Certainly, my lady," he replied smoothly.

#####

She was annoyed. First of all, she had wasted thirty minutes trying to dish out any valuable information he might have, but all his answers were light, flirtatious, and irritating. Second, the questions that he _dared _to ask back were twice as provoking. He had even gone so far as to ask if she had a sweetheart. _If he's not a creepy pervert, _she thought, _pigs can fly._

He left her alone "to feed the cats" on the second story of his house after telling her to look around. She started looking in rooms from her right and found nothing too uncommon (only foreign books and antique art) until she opened the door to the last one on her left and stepped inside.

She didn't know what to say. Surrounded by an unmade, messy bed were violins- parts and whole, strings, knobs, bows. She let her mouth drop in surprise and confusion. She did not notice that he had come up behind her.

"Here," he said, his face so close that she could feel his breathe on her neck, "is my bedroom."

She jumped away. "Don't you know it's rude to sneak up on someone?" she cried indignantly.

He smirked and shrugged. "I thought you knew."

She turned back, and looked in again. Carefully, she said, "You told me you were a violinist? Would you care to play for me?"

"Ma'am, I'm sure you know this already, but Red and Western music don't mix."

Now it was her turn to shrug. "My father use to play it. I grew up with it."

He brushed past her as he walked inside, picked up a violin and settled it under his chin. "Any requests?" he asked as he took a bow in his hand.

"Paganini."

He raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. Instead, he brought the bow to the strings and the music that came out of the instrument rocked Misaki with so much nostalgia that she felt sick.

He was playing the No. 17. She would have recognized it any day, since it was one of the pieces she often heard when she came home from school and her father was still with her family.

Headache. It felt like there were hundreds of little gnomes pounding her head. She turned her heel and set off, but the music stopped behind her and he grabbed her hand.

What's wrong? Are you sick?"

She shook her head. "I have to go," she mumbled.

Awkwardly, he released her and placed his hands on his sides. "You're welcome to visit me again," he said. "But, like, without your uniform."

She nodded her head and left.

#####

She did go a week later, on a Saturday. He played her Caprice No. 11. The next time, it was No. 24. And she went again the week after that. And again.

#####

It became a routine.

#####

Once, after he had finished playing for her, he asked, "Why aren't you ever going to arrest me?"

"I changed my mind."

"You ever gonna do it, though?"

"No."

He flashed a brilliant smile, and her insides turned warm and fuzzy, just like the champagne they were drinking.

#####

She found company in him. He was witty, intelligent, and interesting. She felt comfortable talking about her past, and her job. She talked about her sister Suzuna, and her father, and her grandmother. He would listen, legs up on the couch, a glass of wine in one hand. And finally, when it was September and the leaves had begun to change colours, she knew it was love.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, when a glass of champagne turned into a few more, and then he kissed her, and she kissed back, and her arms tangled up around his neck as she pulled him closer and her back pressed against a wall. He broke off and raised an eyebrow, but she stood on tiptoe and placed both her hands on his face.

_Please_.

He burrowed his face into her neck. "I love you, Ayuzawa," he whispered.

An hour later they were on his bed. He was lightly asleep; his breathe tickled her neck and his arm circled around her waist. A cat slept on her pillow, another by her feet.

She felt complete.

#####

He was arrested, thirteen days later. Misaki did not know until the Friday after, when she went to visit him and saw smoke coming out from the shattered windows. Gone.

#####

Afterwards, she moved a little farther away, resigned her job, and worked as an editor for a newspaper. Even after six years, not a single person knew of her clandestine relationship.

Her heart wrenched every time she passed by his abandoned house, but she would turn her head away and continue walking.

Under her bed she kept a violin, a bow, and a stack of sheet music. It was her birthday gift. He had placed the items in her hands, and told her that if she ever changed political ideologies, he would be more than happy to teach her. She took it out every night, stroked the smooth, glazed wood, and flipped through the Caprices, and sometimes she would cry herself to sleep, and in the morning, Suzuna would ask her why her eyes were puffy.

She buried her misery into her work. She would leave home at seven in the morning, come home at ten, and work some more in her room. It was her routine, and this routine kept her from breaking down.

#####

It was one of these nights when Suzuna rapped on her door. "Big sister? There's a British man with yellow hair asking for you. Should I send him off?"

Misaki was puzzled. _What man would ask for her at eleven at night? _she wondered. _What man could- wait. Man. British. Yellow hair. Oh my God, no, it can't be, no-_

She bolted out of her room and flew down the stairs, sobbing with- what? Relief? Joy? She didn't know. It didn't matter, anyway.

#####

And when his strong arms wrapped around her body, she felt complete, once again.


	2. France, 1999

France, 1999

####

Misaki and Usui went on a total of nine dates in the little private art gallery beside the lingerie shop. She was a fine art student from Japan; he was an amateur artist (fresh out of school) who painted nothing but cats.

If anyone questioned him, he'd tell them that Misaki had asked him out the moment they met. She had approached him, wearing a tight black skirt and a low cut blouse, asking if he would accept an apprentice under his wing. And he, as cocky as ever, told her he'd take her only at night, in which she agreed.

She, of course, would disagree to this story. What _really_ happened was that her professor had told her that although she had a knack for realistic paintings, she lacked the spontaneity and creativeness of modern art. So he had given her a business card, with instructions to learn from "_Mr. Walker's extraordinary sense of artistry, twice a month."_

And she didn't like the place much, too, and she always tried to leave as early as she possibly could. His gallery was located in a shady region of the city- and it was right across from a strip club. The clean, plain glass windows of Usui's office made it easy to see everything that went on inside it, day and night.

She wasn't exactly affable towards well-endowed ladies.

But she'd never admit that the handsome stranger _did_ somehow managed to persuade her to stay; despite his perverted inclinations she was somewhat impressed with his creations. But she couldn't help ticking him off, telling him with a frown that she thought his contemporary-style cats looked like garbage bags dipped in crocodile shit. But she did stay for a few hours.

At the end, he told her to call him Usui instead of "Mr. Walker."

So, if it counted, that was their first date.

#####

Their second date happened after a long day of work for both of them, almost a month after. She was supposed to leave at nine, but the heavy rain of southern France that suddenly started made her stay until it stopped, some hours later. In compensation, he whipped out pasta from the little refrigerator under his desk, and they shared it for dinner. And there was also the awkward contact of their hands on the glass door that Misaki would never tell anyone about. (But it did happen- Usui could prove it with the surveillance camera by the washroom door.)

#####

Some weeks later, he threw a surprise birthday party for her, which consisted of two people (them), a chocolate cake (her favourite), two cone-shaped party hats (which were way too small), and candles (why so romantic?) And even though he hadn't properly asked her out, anyone would call that a date.

When she left at midnight, he gave her a small kiss on the cheek and an _I like you_, and she, shocked, slammed the glass door on his face and sprinted home.

#####

They wouldn't have their fourth date in his workplace until months later, long after they were formally going out. He'd take her sightseeing, the movies, and to art gallery exhibits (which weren't contemporary, thank God.) But on this particular date, he picked her up after her Monday morning class and took her to his gallery.

"That's for you, sweetheart."

"You mean this?" Misaki picked up the small painting that was laid on the desk. It was yet another of his signature cats, but there were two. One was small and black, the other ginger with green eyes.

He put his hands in his pockets, his face lighting up in a gleeful smile. "Yep."

For the next hour or so, they sat side by side, his hand covering hers, while they watched the sunset. In the dark silhouette of the streets, they could make out the strip dance across, which they could see was nurse-themed.

When she went home, she hung her present on a wall of her bedroom.

#####

Their fifth and sixth happened almost a year later. Also, they were too drunk to have any recollection of it the next morning.

#####

On the seventh date, they were celebrating Usui's birthday with their ritualistic chocolate cake and blue party hats when Misaki bluntly told him that she had been offered a job in Japan after graduation.

His twenty-fifth birthday was the only day in his life he remembered crying.

She had stayed for almost four years in France, and that night was the first time she had completely soaked her pillows with tears.

#####

But she did come back, like she promised. After working for an art museum in Japan, she was able to apply for an extended six week vacation, and the first place she went to was a surprise visit to Usui's office. When he saw her, he picked her up and twirled her around and around until they were too dizzy. For dinner, they ate pizza under his desk.

They were in high spirits until Misaki's phone rang, and the caller ID that Usui saw made it clear to her that he was not happy. The next hour consisted of an argument on his testosterone-steered male possessiveness.

She left angrily, and Usui watched her go, behind the glass windows.

#####

But for Christmas, he still gave her a present. Misaki gave him a portrait of two (realistic) cats she had painted.

That was their ninth and final date.

#####

It wasn't the last time she went inside, however. Today Misaki stormed into his tiny office, threw a lunchbox at him, and was about to storm out when he caught her by the waist and pushed her against the wall.

"What are you doing here, hmm?"

"What else? You forgot your stupid lunch!"

"Ah, thanks for being so caring, but how 'bout some…"

#####

She finally managed to escape fifteen minutes later, her hair and clothes dishevelled. Rolling her eyes, she crossed the street to where her new gallery was being renovated. Originally, it had been a strip club, but there was internet now, so most strip clubs had gone out of business.

Usui looked out from his window. It was a pity he couldn't see nurse costumes anymore, but this was even better. He could see Misaki, beautiful and strong, bossing the renovators around like a queen.

The strong glint of sunlight caught the light of his Christmas present to her two years ago, but he could also spot the diamond of her other ring.

He smiled.

#####


	3. Japan, 1855

When Captain Walker of the merchant ship _The Tigress_ visited a fortune teller years ago, she told him that he would never be happy until he found true meaning in his life. His twenty-two year old self didn't see any problem in her words- life was just a game of sex and gambling.

He regretted it, three years later. There was absolutely nothing concrete in his life. He had everything a man could ever want, but it wasn't enough. He had all the men, all the ships, and all the gold, but his heart was still restless. He had all the luck-God knew how many times he could've died at sea. And so now he stood in this tiny room in the hotel, wondering if he had made a big mistake.

He picked her out of everyone else because of her eyes. All other women could make a show with their fluttering eyelashes and flirtatious talk, but their eyes were dead. Lifeless. Who wouldn't, if most of them were sold by their parents before they turned ten.

Hers wasn't, however. In the ten times he had visited the red light district before, she would always stand out like a black sheep. She was quiet, serious, and contemplative. All of the other women wanted her advice, her comfort. All of the men wanted-well, wasn't _that_ obvious.

She seemed like the only one who could help him redeem himself.

He wondered right now if she thought he was the usual sick bastard who would fuck her and leave. It seemed pretty probable, since he was foreign-looking, decked out in his smart-fitting suit, and that the money in his hand was enough to buy her for a whole week.

Also present in the room was that well-hidden scorn in her eyes. He didn't miss that.

"You can sleep. I'm going to go get a drink."

She looked up at him from the bed in the corner. "What?"

"You heard what I said. Get some rest. I'll be back with some food, if you want."

Her delicate, perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed, the sleeve of her left shoulder falling down as her body shifted. "I don't understand."

"Stop acting dumb, I know you understand perfectly. As your client, you must obey me. Go sleep." He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him.

"Why are you doing this?" She stood up and walked a few paces, stopping at an arm's length from him.

_Relentless woman won't stop._ "I originally wanted some- some _company_ for the rest of the month, but I changed my mind a few seconds ago. I'm getting some beer with my crew. We can talk later, if you want." He left before anything bad could happen. It wasn't his fault; no man could resist a scantily-clad Ayuzawa Misaki. Hopefully beer would clear his head for a little while.

#####

He didn't return until it was well after noon the next day, and the creaking of the opened door awoke the girl, who sat up. He placed a steaming bowl of noodles on the table next to her. "Eat up. I know you're hungry."

"You didn't put anything in it, right?" she asked suspiciously. "Or did you drug it, so you could rape me when I'm out? You probably have a fetish for sleeping whores."

That woman had some humour. He shook his head, grinning. "I'll have it if you're not eating it."

"…"

"It's getting cold."

She got up and warmed her hands with the bowl. "Well, thank you. F-for everything."

"Don't worry about it."

For the next half hour, Misaki sat on the edge of the bed eating her noodles, while he talked about himself. Of the voyages he had made, the encounters with foreigners. He spoke of all his near-death experiences (which included rough storms, fight-to-the-death-battles, mushroom poison) and some funny anecdotes he had experienced as the captain of an English merchant ship. Then, when she was done, she wiped her mouth delicately with a handkerchief and looked up at him. "You still haven't told me your motive."

"I don't have a motive," he lied as he got up and walked out the door. "But expect to see me, two days from now."

"Wait." He heard footsteps approaching him from behind, and small arms encircled his waist. "Let me show you my gratitude."

He turned around to face her, realizing how small and fragile she really was. "You don't owe me anything." He tried to gently push her away, but she stood on tiptoe and kissed him instead, an arm wounding around his neck. Suddenly everything happened too fast, his head was buzzing with- what, excitement? Desire? They were on the bed before he realized it.

God damn his fucking hormones.

#####

It became habitual to visit her every few days. He'd let her sleep through the night, then wake her up with food, and it usually ended with sex. Afterwards, they'd lie on the bed and talk about random things- small talk that didn't matter. But both of them knew that they enjoyed each other's company.

She loved to hear him talk about his adventures. She'd laugh at the brawls he participated in, the beautiful horizons of India that he had visited.

He liked to hear her talk of her happier days, before her father lost all his fortune from gambling, and sold his daughter to a brothel. He liked her smile, and the way her eyes shone whenever she did.

Their shared an interest for Shakespeare. She had studied his works in her previous life.

But the life of a routine would always break, and this one was no exception.

#####

He realized it, three days before his ship set sail back home.

He was Captain Takumi Walker: rich, handsome, and alluring. He had all the fame, all the fortune. He was Captain Takumi Walker, and he was in love with a Japanese prostitute.

#####

The next day, after all the sleep and food and sex, he took her hand in his own and looked into her eyes. "Come away with me, Ayuzawa," he said. "No one will know who you are there, and you can live comfortably and happily."

She bent her head down at his words, her luscious black hair tumbling down around her face so he that couldn't see her expression. He tried again. "Please, I know you're not happy here. I'd take you on my voyages with me, and you can see all the pretty places I've been to. I know you've always wanted to-" he stopped when he realized that she was crying, her delicate shoulders trembling as she did.

"I-I can't." She paused to look up at him. "I still have to care for my younger sister, and I'll never be able to adjust to your lifestyle. I'm a _prostitute, _Walker. A damned, dirty, good-for-nothing _whore._"

"You can't keep on going like this. You can't keep on burying your pain with sex and alcohol."

She shook her head and turned away, refusing to let any more tears fall. "This is my home."

But deep inside, He knew it was also something else. After being abused and used by so many men, she couldn't trust another man who promised her freedom.

She did, however, agree to meet him at the dock the following noon.

#####

"Here." He placed an orange tabby into her arms. "She's called Tigress. Best rat-catcher I've had, and she gives good company." Tigress meowed and sniffed the silk robes Misaki was wearing.

She buried her face into the soft fur. "Thank you," she whispered. When she kissed him, his bones melted, and his head spun and his heart sped until it was pounding inside him like a jackhammer. She pulled back only when she needed air.

"I'll come back," he said, stroking her hair. "Maybe next year. I'll come back," he repeated. She placed her head on his shoulder, and he kissed her neck. "Are you sure you're not coming?"

She nodded, arms still wrapped around him.

"_What's in a name?" _he whispered into her hair. "_That which we call a rose-"_

"_-by any other name would smell as sweet." _She looked up, palms flat on his chest. "Maybe next time, I'll be ready to break free."

His heart leapt at her words. He'd come back, and if she refused, he'd go again and again, until the day she would finally stand on the deck and breathe in the warm, salty air of the Pacific ocean. The day where she would be free of all her pain and loss, regret and sin. He had found his redemption in her, and it was his obligation to find hers, and he was willing to sail around the world a hundred times for her, if need be.


	4. Edo, 1610

If there was one thing Misaki could choose to despise, it would be cats.

When she was seven, she saved a kitten from drowning, and nine months later he had turned into an oversized sack of potatoes, regularly ravaged the kitchen, and never responded to her affection. He would eat and leave, possibly to scour the vicinity for any available females to mate with. The last straw was when he killed her pet bird.

He fell into the river and drowned in his own weight one day, and she never saved any more cats.

Brushing off her memories of childhood, she walked towards the building that loomed in the distance in long, unwavering strides. She had business to attend to this evening, and if anyone stood in her path, she'd run him through.

That person happened to be Yukimura. The boy was every bit curiosity and obnoxiousness, and with all the tenacity of an innocent young boy, shouted across the fence, "Ayuzawa-san! I have a question to ask!"

She gritted her teeth in annoyance- she had absolutely no time to entertain him. "What do you want?" she almost barked.

He tried not to flinch. "I'm conducting a survey within the village. Do you think samurais are better, or ninjas?"

"What do you _think_?"

"Eh… ninjas?"

"I'm a goddamn samurai, you daffodil-brained idiot! Now _scat_!" She watched in satisfaction as he scuttled away.

She approached the dojo and stood under the roof, scanning her surroundings and impatiently tapping her foot. Despite the fact that it was summer, the chilly dusk air made her shiver, and she wrapped her arms around herself to deflect some of the cold. If anything went wrong today, she'd skewer _him_ with her glaive.

If there were two things Misaki could choose to despise, they would be cats and perverted men.

#####

Whenever anyone met Usui Takumi, they would think of one of two things, or perhaps both at the same time.

The first was that he was elegant, sleek, and mysterious, and had the most gorgeous, unusual eyes that his clan had ever produced. He could jump from the highest places (and emerge unscathed), slip through the smallest cracks without his head being stuck, and walk with the lightness of a gazelle in the exotic plains of Africa. He was the object of envy for every male ninja; admiration and desire for the ladies.

(Cat Man was his nickname, and even though it was a huge compliment to his part, Usui felt retarded whenever anyone called him that.)

And secondly?

That he was gay, of course.

He rejected all of the women's attention, flirtation, and gifts. His eyes never wavered from concentration, even when his fellow female ninjas strutted in front of him, scantily clad. No man could have _that _much self-control, unless he swung the other way…

People who knew him, however, also knew who he was seeing.

"You mean _her? _That _violent, ill tempered woman_?" they would exclaim.

Others would nod and smile sagely. "They make quite a dazzling pair, don't they? She's probably the only one who could handle him, and vice versa."

More would widen their eyes in fear as they imagined the children Misaki and Usui would produce. _Goodbye to a liveable planet…_

But right now, he zipped over the rooftops, feet barely touching the tiles as he ran. He was almost running late, and he _knew _how his lady felt about tardiness. He saw his destination right ahead, crouched, and…

#####

She blocked his strike even before he landed from above her. Her _naginata _quickly came into play, blocking all of the thrusts from his sword. In return, her blade zipped past his head, barely shearing his hair off, and she jumped to her left as he tried to stab her side. "What type of welcoming is this?" she yelled over the din of metal clashing metal. "You almost lopped my _head _off!"

He chuckled and jumped over her glaive. "But your head's still intact, right?"

"Thanks to my skills, yes!"

"Ah, so proud."

"You're one to say, you conceited ass!"

He knocked her weapon out of her hands and cornered her against a pillar. "Say what, lady warrior?" He glanced downwards to see a smaller blade pressing against is abdomen.

"You forgot I carry a second knife with me, hmm?"

"…that blade's for committing suicide, Ayuzawa, not threatening an innocent man." He backed off from her, eyes raking over her body. "Since you're dressed nicely today, maybe we shouldn't get so rough-"

"Sh-shut up and let's get going!" She stomped off the opposite direction, and then stopped to look back at him. "Wait, where are we supposed to be going, anyway?"

"Well, I was originally planning for us to visit a sake bar, but we could head _that_ way-" his head jerked towards the woods- "and have a little _fun_ there, if y'like."

She blushed beet red. "N-no-no way in hell, pervert!" She marched away, head held high. "Beer! We're getting beer and nothing more!"

Usui grinned and ran to catch up with her, but was stopped by Yukimura calling him in the distance. "Usui-san! I have a question to ask!"

He cocked an eyebrow but kept going. "What's the matter?"

"Just asking everyone around a question." He scampered up to them. "Which one is better, ninjas or samurais?" He gave a furtive glance towards Misaki. "Wait, let me guess…the ninjas?"

The ninja's arm snuck around the girl's waist like a cat's tail, who in turn glared and struggled from his grasp. "That's an easy question," he answered, smiling wryly. "Ninjas and samurais? Their children are the best, naturally."

"…go to hell, _both _of you!"


	5. US, World War II

It wasn't too long ago when Takumi Usui would smile and take her hand after school and walk her home. She remembered the way he would run his hands through his hair whenever he was slightly embarrassed; how his eyes shone with such fierce brightness when they were together, alone, in the park. Those were their glorious youthful days, and she remembered every single second of it.

She gripped the washcloth anxiously as she studied her husband, who had just walked in the front door and was sitting wearily on the dining table. He was still young-hell, they were _both_ still young, but the events that had taken place soon after their fairy-tale wedding had showed through his strained brows and tired eyes. She wondered if she carried the same complexion. Even if she asked him, however, he'd take her in her arms, kiss the top of her head, and call her the most beautiful gem in the world.

He looked up from the newspapers on the table as she approached him and sighed, eyes glassy. "The rumours are true. It's happening."

She had guessed it would come about, but the news was nevertheless still startling. "Even you? You're only half."

"The Alien Enemies Act dictates anyone with one-sixteenth or more of Japanese blood," he spat. "I am more American than most people can ever be-" His shoulders slumped suddenly in apprehension, the fire burnt out by sorrow in a split second. "Our business, our house, we must sell it in a week."

Misaki gasped in horror and sunk into a chair. "How could the government do this to us? We had nothing to do with the bombing thousands of kilometres away!" _Why is this happening to us, right now? Young, fresh, newly-married, set to be shipped out like cattle to an internment camp in another State. How would they survive and move on? How could-_

She stood up suddenly at the horrid realization, toppling over her chair and sending Usui to his feet as he caught her by the shoulders while she swayed in a heat of dizziness. "Misa, what's the matter? Are you feeling unwell?"

She bit her lip and shook her head, trying to blink back at the tears that had formed. When she couldn't hold it any longer, she buried her head into his shirt and cried. "Usui," she wept. "I-I'm-" Another rack of sobs shook her.

_Oh, Christ. Oh, heavens, why did-why…why now? Why-_

"I'm _pregnant._"

For a long time, he held her in his arms and rocked her back and forth, kissing her hair like he did, many years ago. They held onto each other, to their past and present life, in desperation and grief. They clung onto doubt, to the _what-ifs and whys_, and finally, the small jar of hope behind their minds that somehow, somewhere, things would get better. That this child, _their _child, would run in the grassy meadows of the country that they loved so much, and be happy, free, and equal. But they could only wonder.

#####

The hot, June air had left Misaki bed-ridden for hours in the common bedroom now, trying to grapple for stability every time she felt contractions. She hadn't talked to her husband in three days- and counting. Every time he tried to catch her gaze through the fence, she'd turn away, mouth set in a grim line.

She wondered if she was being extremely selfish now. But what he was doing, where he had chosen to go- it was completely out of her mind. Was he honestly willing to give up his family, his life, for people who had destroyed his dreams? Was he actually willing to fight under their flag, when his wife would probably not even be provided with milk to feed her newborn child?

Silence fell into the stifling bedroom she shared with ten other women when a man walked in. She watched passively as he knelt and took one of her hands, pressing it to his forehead, and then kissed her swollen belly. His gaze was watery, and she knew that Takumi Usui, the man who never cried, was on the verge of tears. She couldn't hold it any longer. She couldn't _not_ have her husband, her support, the love of her life, gone at the call of arms. She mustered her courage and met his gaze.

"…why? Why, Takumi?"

In the corner of her eye, she could see the women slowly shuffling out of the room.

"I'm doing it for you, and our child. I need to make it right."

She broke from his grasp and turned away, chin quivering. "You'll die," she whispered. "You'll die, and I'll be left alone to care for a child in this god-forsaken place!"

He grabbed her from behind as she sobbed earnestly now, her shoulders falling up and down from the exertion. His large, warm hands were on her stomach, soothing her, soothing the baby. The two people he loved most in the world. "I'll come back," he cried. "I promise. I'll come back home, and when I do, we'll both be free."

She leaned into him, nodding as the tears fell. Her neck was wet from his tears, but pride didn't matter. Not now, not forever. They were together, at this moment, presently. She breathed in his scent as he smoothed out her damp hair. They could vaguely hear a bell in the distance.

"Promise me you'll take care of our child when I'm gone?"

She nodded and clutched at his hands. "Stay with me a little longer…"

He shook his head as the bell rung once more. "I love you, Misaki. I'll love you forever."

She could feel his presence even after he had turned and left; his voice lingering in her mind, comforting. She wiped her tears away with her soot-streaked sleeve and turned to look at the sun shining through the windows. It was funny, how she had taken granted for all the small things in life before the war. That they would own a restaurant, and when they were ready, a family. That something important suddenly became the last thing in her mind, and how one person she thought she would have forever was gone. She still didn't understand him. Maybe she'd never. Was that important? Not anymore.

_Come home._


	6. Renaissance, 16th century Europe

Oh hey... my apologies about that overly-long, unannounced hiatus. I was too busy saving the world.

This is by far the most difficult piece I've written. I started early July and sat in front of the computer with humongous brainfarts. Hopefully you won't be as confused as I was when I proofread it.

* * *

><p><strong>Renaissance, 16th century<strong>

The slave is like a veteran spy, working for the army, planning his escape in every spare moment. On the outside, he works hard and long hours, scrubbing the dirty kitchen floor, or washing the greasy pots and pans. His mind, however, does not cease. He doesn't belong here.

He doesn't deserve it, either.

There is no arguing that a young, well educated man does not deserve to be a slave in another country's home. He was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time, which would cost him what? One or two years, and a whole lot of his male pride? Never mind, he has it all worked out.

His master is a young man, almost like himself, who makes an appearance every so often. He is a merchant, and as a merchant's life demands, travels extensively. The slave cannot help but notice his bright, lemon hair, and that his eyes, which are the same yellow colour, draw up slightly, giving him an almost dangerous glint. He is not one to toy with.

The wife is also young- younger; with hazel eyes and dark, black hair. She rarely talks, never making a scene or a ruckus, staying in her bedroom for most of the day, and only supervising the kitchen for some time prior to supper, before disappearing into the shadows of her room again. The slave can also see the look of fear and reluctance in her eyes as she greets her husband at the door. She's like a bird, he realises, a small, delicate songbird.

She is also the keystone of his plan, then. He is the hunter, a hungry cat crouching at the edge, patiently waiting for his prey to let its guard down. He'll have her be smitten by him, blinded, infatuated, willing.

Willing to free him.

#####

He's approached one afternoon by her in the kitchen, while he is carrying a barrel of flour. Immediately dropping it, he bows, a tinge of excitement creeping up his spine. "Good afternoon, milady."

She studies the man in front of her, lovely hazel eyes shining from the light of the stained glass window. "You're our new slave?"

"Yes, milady."

She sighs, shoulder drooping slightly as she does, mouth forming a line. "I _told _the housekeeper we needed somebody literate, not another boy in the kitchen!" She turns to leave, but stops as she hears him speak.

"Milady…I _can_ read."

#####

The girl stares across the table at the man in front of her. He's handsome enough, with fine, aristocratic features that made him look almost silly in a house servant's garb. The yellow hair and unusual light eyes, she does not fail to notice, uncannily resemble her husband, the only difference being that this man is not hurting her. Not at the moment, anyway.

Married at fifteen, that is the fate of any girl whose family cannot support her anymore. She should count her blessings, said her aunt, that her fiancé was not a perpetually drunk man twice her senior. In her relatives' eyes, he was a tall knight in shining armour, wealthy and attractive.

In her eyes, he is a beautiful monster, something magnificent, but deadly, like the silver tip of a Turkish sabre. A hawk who has all the capability never to let a prey escape.

But this man…there is something that is radiating from him, a type of steadfastness and warmth and…_vulnerability._

"Are you okay, ma'am? Would I be able to aid you?" She jerks her head back up and shakes the thoughts away.

"Yes...I'd like you to do me a favour. A big one."

(And that was how it all started.)

#####

**1**

He thinks it strange, that a noblewoman would ask him to teach her how to read in a society where literate women were discouraged. He couldn't refuse the offer however; any position was better than a kitchen boy. But then again, he doesn't belong here.

She doesn't seem to be interested in reading and writing, either. When all the doors are properly shut and they are alone in the library, she leans back on the chair and meets his eyes. "Tell me about yourself," she says, "I know nothing about you."

He shrugs. "I was captured one day, and sold in the slave market."

"Well yes, I know that. What were you before, and why do you know how to read?"

"I…studied animals at a university. Large cats, like tigers and lions, in particular."

Her eyebrows raised in interest, a small smile forming, shifting her seat so that she can lean in closer. "Tell me more."

The little bird takes the bait.

_(And the cat smiles inwardly in glee.)_

#####

At night he hears yelling and flying objects in the master's bedroom and he immediately knows what is going on.

He's seen the bruises on her body, scars that she tries to hide so hard from everybody with the luxuriant fabric of her dress. His abuse is no secret to anyone however, not the other servants nor her family.

(It takes him all of his will not to storm in and knock the man away from her.)

#####

**2**

On the warmer spring days where the master is out of town, he acts as her bodyguard as they stroll around the marketplace. He's notice her keen interest towards the beautiful exotic birds that are sold there. Sometimes she can sit there for hours, peering at them through the cage, tickling their feet, or simply gazing up at them, losing track of time until he gently shakes her and points at the approaching dusk in the horizon.

(She has beautiful eyes, he realises.)

#####

**3**

He hears the arguing and the yelling again, a sure sign that the master is home. He busies himself in the library, labelling books and placing them in the right shelves, until the reassuring loud bang of the door and the neighing of the carriage horses signal his departure. Seeing nobody else watching, he slips into the bedroom to see his mistress sprawled on the floor, dress ragged and her body battered.

She looks up at the sound of footsteps, eyes wide, but steady, watching him. "I'm okay," she tells him, her voice surprisingly unwavering.

"Nonsense. You need a doctor, milady."

She shakes her head as he lifts her up. "I don't need one."

"Yes you do, I'll be back-"

A small hand grabs his wrist as he tries to turn around. "Comfort me," she tells him softly.

(_Okay, _his mind says.)

#####

**5**

The secret of their affair is as well kept as the master's abuse, but all the servants are wise enough to keep it from the master.

With her merchant husband setting up a shop in a neighbouring city, they have weeks to spend together. He never fails to carry out her every whim and desire- accompanying her to the marketplace, playing chess beside the fireplace in the hall, the long walks around the flower garden. On her birthday, he buys her a blue finch with the meagre stipend he's given, and, smiling, she gently takes the bird in her hands and lets it free.

It's funny, he thinks, restlessly turning on his bed one night, that being a servant would be by far more pleasant than he had imagined. But the idea of staying here, fostering an illicit relationship with a married woman above his social class- that just seemed so wrong, so empty.

His mind is trapped in purgatory; he doesn't know what he wants- and even if he did, he can't go anywhere.

_How long have I been here anyway…?_

"Tora?" He jolts at the sound of her voice. He can hear footsteps approaching his room. This time her voice is louder, closer. "Tora?"

"What are you doing here? Your husband is sleeping on the same floor!" He throws the covers around her frail, shaking shoulders.

His touch seems to fully rouse her, and she stares up at him, mouth slightly open in realization, eyes reflecting the light the lit candle on his bedside. "Oh," she says simply, arms slowly snaking out to wrap around his neck, slumping so that he's carrying the full weight of her in his arms.

"What's the matter? Did he hurt you again?"

She buries her face into his neck, shaking her head. "Yh hffh nnh shld."

"…what?"

Her face withdraws, and he can feel that his neck is wet from the breeze through the open window. Her hands slowly cup his face as he touches her forehead with his, thumb wiping her tears away. Her next words suck the wind out of his lungs.

"I said…you have a child."

_(Well, that escalated quickly.)_

#####

**8**

She's on the physician's order to remain bedridden for the last six weeks of her pregnancy. Somebody is knocking on her door and she knows exactly who it is, but she doesn't want to see him, not when she's like this.

#####

**9**

Her sister is staying to take care of her and run the house at the absence of the master. She is the one that quietly enters and leaves the mistress' bedroom, forbidding all servants and visitors. She finds him in the garden alone one morning, and sits beside him on the stone bench, looking out at the autumn roses that have started to bloom.

"So...what are you planning to do?"

He stares at her incredulously. Is she stupid? What _could _he do? "I'm not in any position to do anything, ma'am."

His slightly sardonic tone does not seem to affect her. "Tora is a cruel man. Our parents knew this even before she married him. My sister-she's stronger than you think, and she can handle it. But a child…" She gets up, skirts rustling as she walks back towards the house. "Think about it."

"What would you tell Tora?"

A shrug. "Miscarriages happen."

And then she is gone, and he is left to ponder on his own.

#####

"She has your hair," the sister says carefully, fingers toying with the fabric of her skirt.

He looks down at the infant, her eyes shut tight as she sleeps, a feeling of protectiveness overwhelming him. He clears his throat. "W-what's her name?"

"Your decision. And...you should leave now, unless you want the master to come home early and find out." Her voice turns low. "Her fever is rising, she's getting sicker. If Tora knows-"

"I understand."

He leaves without a goodbye, because he knows she doesn't want one.

#####

It's after, when he's riding on the coach, that the infant opens her eyes, and he realises that he is staring back into a pool of yellow.

She is not a songbird as he once thought. She's more, and he's underestimated her, because _she _is the true hunter, and he's fallen for her trap.

He holds Tora's child close, eyes welling in anger and frustration at the true ugliness of humanity, how the bird she let free was only a façade for the lies and betrayals that both the child and he would now face. "I'll take care of you," he tells her. "I'll keep you away from it all, I promise."

#####

The baby yawns, blinking at the jolting of the horse carriage, and he smiles down and strokes her wispy blonde hair, because in his eyes she is beautiful.

#####

Under the protest of her sister and the midwife, she clutches the beside table to watch, from her window, as her child sets off for the life she will never have.

#####

He could have loved her, given the right circumstance.

Perhaps he might, in the next life.

* * *

><p>Sticking with the "not everything has to go as planned" theory, I decided that Usui and Misaki should be stuck in a really, really bad situation. Sorry, I'll try my best to have a happier one up next.<p>

I still feel like it's too confusing and vague, so let me know if you like it!

As always, please point out any errors you may have noticed.

Thanks again,

albinoturtle xoxo

**-Author's Note: a semi-in-depth analysis-**

Thanks to the extremely helpful feedback I received, I thought something like this would resolve any confusion you may have on this piece.

First and most importantly, as this is mostly in Usui's point of view, we do not know what Misaki is thinking in most situations. We do know, however, that she is sharp enough to observe his "vulnerability" in their first meeting and she ultimately plays it to her advantage.

We don't know what she wants, either. I think the most confusing scene to most of you would be when she goes into Usui's room to tell him she is pregnant. But why is she saying Tora's name? Is she pretending to be confused, _knowing_ that the child is in fact her husband's, and has she already decided she would give the child to another man instead? Or was she _truly_ confused, brought to a miserable low after finding out she was unfortunate enough to conceive a child in the hell she is living in? We, like Usui, will never know. And knowing is not the main point, either.

Realising she would never be able to escape from her evil husband's grasp, Misaki made the difficult decision to give up her baby, because a part of her will always be with her child, and it's her own way of breaking free from her prison.

I also hope you've noticed that the bolded numbers represented the number of months Misaki was pregnant for.

In the end, they were both willing to sacrifice their selfish desires for the good of the child. I think Raina puts it perfectly- that they _did _love each other, whether they were too blind to realise it is another story. The decision to deceive a "good" man was a difficult one to Misaki, but in turn, Usui understands that her actions weren't intended to be hurtful or manipulative; she was just doing the only thing she could. In the end, both characters find redemption in themselves that turn them from caged to free birds. In a way, they _are _together, forever.


	7. Elementary School, aged 7

Greetings! I am back once again after a very, very long hiatus. Please stay tuned until the end of the story, where I'll be giving you some updates on what the next half of the year might look like.

As for the story, Misaki and Usui are children in elementary school. I imagine Usui as a more thoughtful, quiet child (think back to the second ending of the anime) and Misaki is her same old righteous self. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>On the first day back from summer vacation, Misaki ran into the classroom to find out that Usui would be sitting beside her- again.<p>

Putting up his feet on her desk, he flipped the blond locks away from his head and winked. "Like this arrangement, Misa-chan?"

She buried her head in her arms and groaned. "You told me you were moving to Britain in July."

"I can't possibly leave you here, Misa-_chan. _You'd miss me too much, and I can't bear the thought of you pining over me."

"I'm asking the teacher to move you, right now."

"Oh, you're too late. I told her I had to sit in the front because I have poor eyesight. And I _know_ you're not going to compromise by sitting at the back with _them,_" he jerked his head at the Idiot Trio. "We're gonna be partners for the term!"

"Words are insufficient to describe just _how much_ I hate you right now," she said, planting her face onto the desk.

#####

Misaki's mother had always had a partial liking to Usui. "You know, you should invite him over for dinner one day," she said. He walks you home after school every day, right?"

"Umm…yeah. I never ask him to, though. He just does it anyway."

She winked at her. "What a striking young lad."

Misaki rolled her eyes.

#####

"What do your parents do?" Minako asked over the dinner table one day.

A blush suddenly spread across the boy's face. "Well…they work in England."

"Then who takes care of you?"

"Grandpa. May I have some more bunny apple slices?"

"Of course, dear. Do you cut yours like this at home?"

"No, the butler peels my apples and cuts them into cubes."

"…"

_He has a butler?! _ Misaki thought.

#####

The knock on her window one Sunday afternoon made her jump out of her skin. "Misa?" a voice said. "Misa-chan, it's me."

She opened the window and came face to face with Usui. "Why are you here?!" she whispered, hoping her mother would not hear from the other room, then straightened a bit when she remembered she was taking an extra shift. "It's not polite just to climb into people's houses like that!"

He slid inside the room with her help, stood up, and shook out the hair from his eyes. "I got into an argument with my grandpa."

"So what?! There are some things you should and shouldn't do, and this is an example of unacceptable social behaviour!"

"I got into a fight with my grandpa and he insulted me. Can I stay here for a while?"

"But-"

"Please?" He was teary and _trembling_, for God's sake, what the heck happened before?!

She sighed. "Oh alright, but that's only because Mother's not here. Plus we got a lot of time to kill. Have anything in mind?"

"I can teach you chess," he said, nodding at the chess set behind her door.

#####

"How long is it going to take?" Her mother was coming home in two hours, but she _really _wanted to see that fancy house of his…

He pointed at the intersection. "Just a couple o' minutes. Won't be long."

Soon they approached a looming mansion, its grandeur completed with a steel gate. "Umm…" she squeaked. "You live_ here_?"

He stared at her as if she had said something totally absurd, and led her to the backside without a word. "There," he said, "is my room."

His point led him to the second story balcony."

"And how are we supposed to get up there?"

"We climb, of course. If you need help, I'll carry you up." He winked at her.

#####

Misaki almost choked when she entered the house. He had a personal bathroom and it was larger than her _entire house _and-

"Quick. The guests are almost leaving, but we can't make any noise."

"Then why did you lead me here?!"

"I wanted to give you something. It's really important." He rummaged through an old mahogany dresser and produced a box, which he handed to her. "A gift for my Misa-chan."

Inside was a ring, its centre stone shining bright red. "Uh…what am I suppose to do with this?"

"I was told that men give rings to the ladies they take a fancy upon," he said solemnly. "And this is my promise to you." He knelt. "Will you promise yourself to me?"

"You are _so _weird."

#####

As they made their way downstairs, they froze at the sound of a harsh voice calling out, "Usui, where in the world have you been?!"

Misaki turned around to face an old, but tall man (she deduced it was the grandfather?) who gazed at her sternly before fixing his eye on the boy once more. "What have you been up to? Who is this girl?"

"Leave me alone!" Usui cried, taking her by the wrist and walking away. "You never cared about me anyway!"

"HALT!" he roared, and once again, they froze on their tracks. He pointed to the box Misaki was holding. "Explain the meaning of this! How are you able to give away a Walker heirloom! You are a disgrace of a child!"

She gasped. _An heirloom? _She thought. _Just what is up with this family?_

"It belonged to my grandmother, and then my wife," he told her, as if reading her thoughts. "And when she died, I gave it to my daughter- Takumi's mother- as a wedding gift." He turned back at his grandchild. "Well?"

"She gave it to me, before- before-"and he suddenly burst into tears. "_Before you killed her!"_

"I did nothing of that sort! Your mother was in an affair with a lowly man when she already had a husband and son, and I ordered her to stop seeing him!"

"You killed her! You had no right to tell her who to marry, who to see, and what to do! She truly loved my father, did you not see? She died of a _broken heart!"_

"Usui Takumi, I order you to stop this fuss right now." His eyes hardened. "What is the matter with you? You are only a child."

"What do you know about me? What can you possibly _care _to know about me, a bastard child?" Usui cried, tears continuing to roll down his face, "just because I am a child does not mean I cannot love! I can give my mother's ring to_ the only person who cares about me in this world!_"

Misaki dropped it then, and it landed onto the ground, buried in the thick, red carpet. Both the grandfather and butler looked stunned, neither resisting when he pushed them apart to run out of the room. The unlikely trio stood there, dazed at the boy's words, and it was not until minutes later that the grandfather gently asked his servant to take the girl home, and Misaki complied without a fuss.

"_I do care about you," _she heard the grandfather whisper as she left.

#####

It was almost after school the next day, and Misaki was packing up when a group of adults, led by Usui's grandfather, walked into her classroom. "Children," the teacher called out. "Usui has been missing since noon. Has anyone seen, or heard from him?"

As the chorus of "no's" from the students rang out, she saw Mr. Walker approach her. "Misaki, am I right?" The girl nodded. "Did my grandson tell you anything about where he was going to go?"

She shook her head. "I didn't even know he wasn't coming to school today," she told him.

The old man sighed and sat down on a chair. We're forming a search party already." The lines on his face seemed so much more pronounced as he gazed at her. "_Please_ tell us anything if you can remember it, dear. I really shouldn't have been so harsh on him yesterday."

#####

Misaki wasn't sure what love was, nor why all the adults were so upset, but she did know where she could find him.

#####

She saw him climb in from the window just as she finished walked into her room, drenched and shivering from the December rain.

"You're not supposed to climb into people's rooms," she reprimanded him sternly. "And especially near dark."

"The beautiful melody of your voice beckons me like the wind."

She rolled her eyes and grinned, but froze when she heard her mother open the front door. "Misaki?" she heard her call out. "Is everything all right? Have you heard anything of your friend?"

Wide-eyed, she anxiously motioned for Usui to hide in the closet, who quickly took off his shoes and crept inside. "No, mom…it's really quiet here on this side of the neighbourhood." Her eyes travelled to the shadow of her mother approaching and slammed the closet shut just as she walked in. "I've just been cleaning my room, that's all."

Minako took her daughter into her arms and held her tight. "I'm sorry about all this," she whispered, stroking her hair. "I joined the search party after Mr. Walker approached me after noon. We've called the police, and they're helping us. Usui won't be able to go far in this weather. Meanwhile," she put her hands on Misaki's shoulders, "you should go to bed now. I won't make you go to school tomorrow if you don't want to."

Misaki forced a smile. "I'm okay, mom. I'll be fine alone, if you're going out with the search party again."

Her mother nodded and patted her head. "I sent Suzuna to stay at her friend's house for the night already. Call me if anything happens, okay?"

#####

"Psst. Coast clear."

He emerged, hair and clothes plastered onto his skin from the lack of space and his still-wet clothing. "We need to get you cleaned up," she said when she saw his state of being. "You're getting my floorboards wet. Where in the world did you go, anyway?"

He accepted a towel from her. "Back into my house. I had to grab something of utmost importance to me and my cause."

"And what was that?"

He handed her something, and it was big and weighty and bright.

#####

When the police hounds finally tracked Usui down in the wee hours of morning, the entire search party found the two children on the bed asleep, chess pieces and cards strewn around them.

"My daughter hid him the entire night," Minako explained to Mr. Walker as he approached the scene. He motioned for his butler picked up the still-sleeping child, and the grandfather nodded politely to the party, tipped his hat in thanks to Minako, and climbed into his fancy black car. "Wait," she cried. "The ring." She reached out to hand it to him.

The car had already started, but he had still heard her; the old man gave her a sad smile as he disappeared down the road.

* * *

><p>Cheers to all childhood friendships. Hope this is a slightly sweeter one-shot than last time's...hahaha. On a more serious note, my statement is that a child's feelings are as real as any grown-up's. As I am guessing many of you are closer to that age range, I'm sure you would agree with me.<p>

Secondly, I would like to apologize first for my long absence. I've actually been in and out of the hospital for a while, and although nothing is life-threatening or life-changing, it's taken up a lot of my time, and ultimately I am not nearly as prolific as I would like to be.

In addition, I am at a time where I have to make big decisions about my future. Call it mid-teen crisis if you will, but I'm not ready to make any decisions at all, as a matter of fact; ultimately everything's been pushed to the side for me to digest in the new year.

I hope all my readers enjoyed their Christmas break. Thank you so much for sticking by me even though I HAVE BEEN SO UNFAITHFUL. There is another one-shot in the productions, but I cannot guarantee when I can actually get my butt on it for real.

Please review! I would love to catch up on how you are all doing! (But also, they make me really happy.)

I cannot express my love for you in any greater form,

albinoturtle xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

PS. I have exhausted every possible idea of letting some feline friends into the story, so there was none in here. Heehee.


	8. Chapter 8

Hi! I iz backz.

I've spent the past two months jumping from country to country, taking up my job as a connoisseur of cheese.

Just kidding. But here is the eighth chapter of _Nine Lives_, in which the setting is up to your imagination (hence the lack of a title.)

* * *

><p>He wakes up with a jolt, his eyes squinting as he opens his eyes to a splash of sunshine spilling out from behind the curtains. <em>It's almost ten<em>, he thinks. _I'm half an hour late for our date._

He slides out of bed and looks for his glasses. Where were they? He had put them on the bedside table after reading last night, hadn't he? _Never mind_, he thinks, putting on his slippers and heading for the bathroom. _It must have been a dream, then. It'll come about soon enough._

He takes a final look at himself in the mirror after he is done dressing up, staring at the dark circles of fatigue below his still-bright green eyes. Prying his eyes away in slight antipathy, he picks up the bouquet of red roses from the table and turns to leave the door.

#####

"_How are you feeling?" he asks, grasping her left hand with both of his. "You have more colour in your cheeks today."_

_Slowly brushing her thumb over his hands, she smiles faintly. "A little better now. I'm still tired, though, and sometimes I get the bad headaches."_

_He nods and hesitates for a moment. Choosing not to ask the question that had been looming in his mind, he leans forward instead and plants a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Rest well, love. When you're out of the hospital, we'll have a picnic on my birthday, just like we do every year, okay?"_

"_Yeah…hey…how did the appointment with your doctor go?"_

_He swallows and shakes his head. "Nothing to be troubled about. Go get some rest, alright? Don't worry about me."_

_She nods sleepily, already fatigued by the few minutes of encounter with her visitor. Adjusting the pillows above her head, he gives her one more kiss and quietly slips out of the room, acknowledging the two doctors patiently waiting outside with a quick smile._

_#####_

In the distance he can see a young couple underneath the blooming cherry blossom tree, the girl with the dark hair and dark eyes, the Caucasian-looking boy with the fine, yellow hair and bright eyes. They're leaning back onto the tree leisurely, taking in the view of the park, and enjoying each other's company.

_Wh..what?_

_What in the world?_

_What was she doing with another man? How could she…what in the world…?_

He begins to storm up the hill, the adrenaline pumping into his blood. His stride increases, his eyes locked on that one person, that one woman he would do anything for, that one woman he would exchange his life for in return for her happiness. He had to tell her, before it was too late.

Why is he out of breath? Why are his legs so weary, his heart racing, the beads of sweat from his forehead spilling onto his shirt? Why is the wind blowing so strongly against him, forcing his back to be bent, one arm over the face to mitigate whatever he could?

The wind speaks. "_No," _it tells him. "_No, you are wrong, go away."_

He shakes his head. _I need to tell her, _he thinks. _I need to. Before she's gone._

"_You're already too late…she isn't here._

Taking one last step, he looks up to find himself in front of the young couple before his legs give way and he collapses onto the ground.

#####

_He dreams of her, like he does every night._

_This time, her eyes are wild and frightened, and she is staring at him as if the world has ended and they are drifting in solitary purgatory. Her lips are moving, but he doesn't hear a sound. He steps forward and reaches out for her._

"_I can't take care of both of us," he hears her say. He takes her in his arms and cradles her, rocking her, shushing her, and she weeps into his white shirt. "I can't. I had a future, but I don't now. I'm alone, and I'm stuck."_

_He is calm in his dream. Confident. Assuring. "I'll take care of you," he replies. "You'll both be safe and sound with me."_

######

He groggily opens his eyes and meets the gaze of a girl with bright hazel eyes. He lifts his head from her lap when he realises who it is. "Misaki?" he asks. "Oh, Misa-chan…it's so nice to see you."

The girl sighs with relief at his awakening, and pulls her hair back behind her ear. "Lou!" she cries to the boy beside her. "It's okay, he's awake now, thank goodness." Turning back to the man lying on the grass, she smiles. "Do you remember me?"

_What? "Remember" her? How could he not?! _He shakes his head, bewildered. "I-I –I don't understand, Misaki. You're Misaki!" He sits up, but with great difficulty, still staring at her eyes, her lips, her hair. The girl helps and props him up against the tree. "You're my Misa-chan."

Lou, the blond-haired boy, places his belongings at his feet, while she takes his hand in hers, sitting beside him. Looking soothingly in his eyes, she smiles. "Gramps, I'm Tricia," she says. "I'm your grandchild."

_What? Oh, no, no, what's going on? I have a grandchild? Didn't Misaki just tell me she was pregnant, and now I have a, a-a what?! _and he looks down at his hands.

They're gaunt.

Veined.

Shaking.

The realisation dawns upon him. He's old. Usui Takumi is old, and he doesn't remember it. It seems like he can't remember anything at all, except for those lovely dark eyes that are gazing at him so tenderly. But they're not hers. They were never hers. So slowly, hands trembling, he reaches out to touch her cheek. "You're not Misa," he whispers.

Her embrace is warm, and she rocks her grandfather, soothing him, while he weeps. And when the tears subside, she asks, "Do you remember what you were going to do today?"

"Somewhat. I told her that she'd be well enough to meet me on my birthday."

Tricia beams. "We were on our way to visit her too, weren't we, Lou?" The boy nods, and she looks back at Usui. "Mum said we'd find you here. After this, we'll take you back to your birthday party that everyone's going to. Tag along, the car's not far away."

He studies the young boy beside him. "Is he- are you- you're dating?" The pair nods, and he sighs. "You remind me of us…so many years ago. That's all I remember, the happy years when we were young. I never remember being so... old and broken."

"Come, Gramps. You can tell us more of your funny stories in the car ride."

"Yes, yes…what was your name again?"

"Tricia. And he's Louis."

"...my mother's name was Patricia."

#####

Lou parks the car in the lot, opens the door for Usui and Tricia, then walks to the trunk to get the flowers. Tricia helps Usui out of the car. Wordlessly, they walk up the steady slope, brimming with the fresh scent of cherry blossoms that silently greet them with the gentle caress of the flowing pink petals.

"I remember this place," he mutters, but continues to walk with them.

When they reach their destination, the boy places Usui's bag at his feet, and the girl offers him his bouquets of roses. "Would you like us to accompany you?"

He shakes his head. "I'd like to be left alone for awhile, if you don't mind."

Tricia smiles and nods, looping her arm around her boyfriend's. "We'll fetch you in an hour then, Gramps. Can't be late for your own party."

#####

He stares at her; glides his fingers over the smooth marble, engraved in gold with her name. "I'm back," he whispers. "I'm back like I promised, on my birthday."

A gust of wind blows, sending petals into the sky. They dance midair, and slowly, settle on the ground and around his shoulders, like white snowflakes. Silence dwells upon the area, but he can hear her voice. "_I missed you too,"_ she says.

There's an awkward silence between them, in which he stares at his brown leather shoes and shuffles his feet. She's gone now, isn't she? Isn't it too late to apologize for holding her back from whatever life she could have had?

No. Nothing is ever too late.

He clears his throat and starts to speak to her, all of the years of guilt pouring from his heart. "I kept you," he started, "and I shouldn't have." He shakes his head. "I caged you and thought it was for your best... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Love, I'd do anything in return. You should have left me when you had the chance- _all these years_- and now you're gone." He wipes the tears from his eyes. Looks up at the sky to see white and black cranes circling. He smiles and embraces her voice.

"_Come rest here,"_ she says. _"You must be tired."_

Obeying her, he takes a step back and slowly sits, but his weary legs refuse to coordinate, and he lands awkwardly onto his bottom. Wincing, he rubs his back, adjusting the blanket beneath him, and closes his eyes from the stillness of the cemetery.

#####

_In his dream, they are young again. They're sitting on the park bench, facing the waters, watching the sunset in the horizon. He has his hand placed on top of hers, and her head rests at the crook of his neck._

"_I'm sorry for what I've done to you all these years," he tells her._

_She looks up. "How can you be sorry? You married me, took care of our baby, and we grew old and happy together. Why are you apologizing?"_

_He shakes his head."I always felt that- if I hadn't interfered so much, you know, you would have lived life your own way. I was selfish, Misaki, and I thought I could provide you with everything you needed. But I was wrong. There was one thing you needed that I couldn't provide. And instead, I took it away."_

"_What is it?" she asks, nuzzling her face against his chest._

"_Independence. Freedom."_

_Misaki smiles. "You don't need to feel guilty about that, Takumi. I chose this life with you. I had the independence to choose to spend the rest of my days with you. Maybe I didn't get a doctorate degree or become the CEO of some company, but this was my life. I chose it." She stands up and faces him, but the sun is shining behind her, and he can no longer see her face. He realises that she is fading._

"_Wait," he cries. He reaches out, but he touches air. "Misaki-"_

"_You must stay strong, Takumi," she whispers. She's shimmering, disappearing, like gold dust. "You need the independence now, now that I'm gone. Love the people around you, cherish them…"_

"_But I don't remember them! He cries. "I only remember you, and my mother, and I try to fight this disease, but it's too much! Sometimes I even forget who I am!"_

"…_but they remember you, dear…and that's all that matters…"_

#####

The gentle touch on his shoulder wakes him up. But the dream lies fresh in whatever memory he still has, and he remembers who it is. "Hello, Tricia," he says.

Tricia's eyes widen slightly in surprise, but she returns his smile. "Hey, Gramps. Had a good sleep?"

"Yes, yes. Quite wonderful." He stares at her suddenly, and asks, "Has anyone told you that you resemble your grandmother?"

She laughs. "Mum tells me everyday. That's why I took Lou with me today, to show him that if I was born a few decades earlier, I could probably pass off as my grandmother's twin." She helps him up. "We used to live in the same house, you know. You'n her and my parents and me."

Usui grins. "I wouldn't remember that…I'm surprised I even know your name. But- you have her determination and mind, I can see it. You will go so far." He brushes her cheeks fondly.

He turns to the blond boy beside him. "And you." He straightens his back and clears his throat. "Make sure you treat her well. Make sure you treat each other well. God knows how I shouldn't have kept her beside me. You each have a life, so make sure you live them out before you make any decisions you can't revoke." They nod, and he sighs, adjusting his watch. "I remember there's something on my schedule, but I don't remember what." He looks at Tricia for help.

"Your birthday party," she reminds him.

He places the bouquet of roses in front of the grave. Stares at her name. "Ah, yes… I guess… we should go, then."

The trio slowly walk down the slope, and the warm, sweet breeze surrounds them, lifts them. _"Goodbye,"_ Misaki calls. "_Until we meet again."_

* * *

><p>Because if I can write about children, I can write about elderly people too, right? ;) It makes me think of the first ten minutes of the movie <em>Up<em>, and it brings tears to my eyes.

If you haven't realised, Usui is suffering from Alzheimer's disease.

Thank you for staying with me for the past year- I've had some ups and downs that have affected my attitude and the way I think- I'll share it with you in the next chapter. Which, also, happens to be the last chapter... holy smokes. I'll also talk about my discontent with the current unraveling of the plot in _Maid-Sama. _Prepare for a rant from a turtle!

Kindly take some time to review! Again, many thanks to all, I wish I could personally hug and kiss every one of you.

Love,

albino turtle xoxoxoxo


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